


Wordplay

by Dangerousnotbroken



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker Fic, Dirty Talk, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-13
Packaged: 2018-10-03 20:59:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10258118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dangerousnotbroken/pseuds/Dangerousnotbroken
Summary: “I don’t understand why talking dirty is such a big deal for you humans,” Cas complains, apropos of nothing.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PlaidaleckiandSnackles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlaidaleckiandSnackles/gifts).



> Did you know that Plaidaleckiandsnackles had a birthday? I know. This is huge news. I mean, all humans have birthdays, whether they celebrate them or not. But this birthday was celebrated, and I _promised_ a gift fic to mark the occasion.
> 
> The birthday in question was in October. It is now March.
> 
> Merry Unbirthday, Plaidaleckiandsnackles! Hope it's worth the wait! *crawls away to go live under a rock in the shame hole*

“I don’t understand why _talking dirty_ is such a big deal for you humans,” Cas complains, apropos of nothing. He doesn’t move his hands, but Dean can practically hear the air quotes around the words, the awkward way he emphasizes them. There’s a half finished cup of coffee just to the right of his elbow, the sleeve of his shirt creased and wrinkled from long wear, stained just a little with the coffee he spilled out of that same cup just moments before. Coffee is the only thing about mornings that Castiel doesn’t hate. Coffee, and waking up next to Dean.

Dean won’t ever say out loud how much he agrees.

“You know,” Dean counters, his attention focused much more on the breakfast in front of him than the conversation Cas seems to be determined to start, “you’re one of those human things now too. Might wanna start sayin’ _us_ when you throw shit like that out.” Cas raises an eyebrow in response to the snark.

“That’s all well and good, but if I did that I’d be lumping myself in with the humans who think talking dirty is a big deal. I am resolutely not among them. Therefore, my statement is accurate.” His tone is much more suited for one who sits straight-backed and proper, possibly in a three piece suit, with hair that obeys the commands issued to it and a face that’s seen a razor in the past three days. Cas is none of these things, slouched in one of the bunker’s library chairs with more than a couple days’ worth of stubble hanging out on his jaw, his eyes only open just enough to take in a passing notice of the room around him.

“What’s to get?” Dean asks, still not all that concerned. Sure, he’d seemed pretty interested in the subject last night. He’d gripped Cas’ arms bruising tight and begged in a voice barely above a whisper, _talk dirty to me_ , and when Cas hadn’t acknowledged the request, Dean’s natural response had been to pretend he’d never said such a thing. He’s still pretending now, if he’s being honest. This conversation is totally unrelated to that thing that never happened. Cas just gets ideas sometimes. This is one of them. “It’s dirty talk. It’s hot. People who like sex like things that make sex hotter. It’s basic math.”

“It isn’t,” Cas argues, shaking his head softly. “First of all, none of those things have any numbers associated with them. It’s certainly not math.”

“Ok fine, but it’s still basic,” Dean concedes. “There’s like, I don’t know, this anticipation that builds up when you talk about it or whatever. I can’t really explain it. But it’s a real thing. I ain’t makin’ this up.”

Cas laughs, a raw sound that echoes off the stone walls. “I never implied you were. Is there any more coffee?”

“Always,” Dean assures him, standing up from the table. “Gimme your mug.” He strolls off to the kitchen, dead-guy robe whipping in the breeze created by the swiftness of his motions, and busies himself with fixing two more cups of coffee. “You know,” he continues, shuffling back into the library, “it’s not like it has to be anything fancy. Not asking for fifty shades of Castiel here. Just like, tell me what you wanna do or whatever. What you’re gonna do. What you like.”

“And that…does it for you?” Castiel asks, perplexed.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Dean offers seriously, like it’s something valuable. “It definitely doesn’t hurt.”

“So you’d like it if I—Oh, good morning Sam,” Castiel cuts off, effectively ending the discussion. “There’s more coffee in the kitchen, I believe.”

“Morning, Cas,” Sam replies, oblivious to what he almost walked in on. Dean is silently seething. He really would have liked to know what Cas was going to suggest. But unless he wants to drag Cas out of the room to somewhere more private or run the very real risk of (further) traumatising his brother, the conversation is over.

It’s a good thing Dean has a full mug of coffee in front of him and can safely camp out at the table for the foreseeable future, because with the way the below-the-waistband situation is going right now, he’s not going anywhere any time soon.

~*~

“Do you like that?” Cas rasps, his fingertips light and gentle on Dean’s skin. It’s such a teasing touch over Dean’s hip bones that he should scarce feel it, but it sets every single nerve ending on fire. Somehow, when they’re naked and close, every little thing feels like so much _more_ , and Cas does such a good job of playing that up. He caresses Dean with such careful reverence, finds the spots that bring him so much pleasure, and he always seems so tuned-in to what Dean is feeling. If Dean stopped to think about it, he’d find it freeing to give himself over to something so freely offered. He doesn’t stop to think about it, but still. It’s there.

“Fuck,” Dean groans, rolling his hips up to chase some kind of friction. Cas keeps himself perched just high enough that Dean can’t find anything to grind his crotch against. He tries anyway, but it’s futile.

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Cas croons, dipping his head down to trap one of Dean’s nipples between his teeth, kneading and rolling the nub until its pink and hard. His tongue laps against the abused bud, soothing the skin. Dean sighs, revelling in the attention. Cas just hums softly, closing his lips around Dean’s nipple. His mouth is warm, wet, and Dean arches his back trying to keep up the point of contact.

“Yes, you definitely like that,” Cas decides. He darts his tongue out to tease Dean’s skin once more, the point tracing around the areola. “You’re very responsive.”

“Fuck,” Dean repeats. “Yeah Cas,” he breathes.

“I like that,” Cas informs him. “I like making you feel good.” It sounds like he’s leading into something else, some further explanation on the subject, but he falls silent. For a long while, there’s no talking, just the soft sounds of their bodies shifting against the sheets and the sighs Dean gives up when Cas finds a good spot.

Dean has almost forgotten the half-conversation, wrapped up in the wealth of pleasant sensations, by the time Castiel speaks again.

“I like the sounds you make when you feel good,” Cas offers in a low rumble, his fingertips dancing light and careful across Dean’s skin. He pinches a nipple, the same one he worked over with his mouth a little while ago. Dean gasps softly, just the barest hint of a moan drifting from his lips. “Yes, like that,” Cas murmurs. He falls quiet again, letting his words sink in as he revels in the sounds Dean continues to make, responding enthusiastically to each touch and caress.

Dean’s not stingy with the sound effects. He never has been. He’s never seen the point. If something feels good, he figures, then the person doing it should damn well know. What better way to make sure they keep doing it? But now that he knows how much Cas likes it? Well damn, he’s sure as hell not gonna start silencing himself.

“Is that…” Castiel asks softly, the confident sultriness suddenly gone from his voice. “Is that what you had in mind?”

“Hmm, yeah,” Dean moans in reply. “You’re doin’ fantastic.” He gasps, breath catching as Castiel dips down to drag his teeth over Dean’s throat. “Fuck, I love that.”

“What, this?” Castiel asks coyly, his breath warm against Dean’s skin. “You like it when I bite you?” His teeth graze the skin again, sending shivers up Dean’s spine. “You like it when I leave marks on your skin, so everyone who sees you knows who you belong to?”

Dean groans loudly, arching his back to bare more of his throat. Castiel takes the invitation, laying hot kisses and sharp nips all over the fragile skin. “Yeah, Cas,” he whispers, his voice tinged with need. Castiel replies by sucking a mark onto Dean’s collarbone, a bright spot blossoming on the skin under the attentions of his mouth. “Keep going.”

“If you insist.” Cas drags his lips over Dean’s skin, moving gradually lower and lower. The tip of his tongue just barely grazes Dean’s nipple. Dean gasps, his hands clutching at the sheets as the gentle touches drive him wild. “So responsive for me,” Cas coos.

Dean groans, loud and unreserved, when Cas dips lower and runs the tip of his tongue over the leaking head of Dean’s cock, thick and hard. It’s just a teasing lick, barely a hint of the pressure Dean is craving by this point, but he revels in it nonetheless. Cas does it again, running the point of his tongue in a circle around the tip of Dean’s erection before parting his lips and taking him in slowly, inch by inch, enveloping Dean in the heat of his mouth. Dean’s hips buck up off the mattress, held mostly in place by the firm pressure of Cas’ arm. He’s unabashed with his noises as Cas licks and mouths at his cock, gently, enthusiastic when he sucks Dean’s dick. Always has been. He’s marvelled at how easy it is to unhinge Dean with just his mouth  right since the first time he got down on his knees and awkwardly shoved Dean’s boxers down around his thighs, testing him out with experimental touches and casting questioning glances up at Dean, begging for feedback. Now he’s more confident, more sure of his skills, and he still glances up to see the looks on Dean’s face, but that’s more for amusement than confirmation. He knows exactly how to take Dean apart now, exactly how to drive him wild with pleasure, and he doesn’t hesitate to use any of those tricks. It’s messy and wet, spit dripping down Dean’s shaft to his balls when Cas takes him deep into the back of his throat, and Dean wouldn’t have it any other way.

Dean’s already seeing stars, but there’s a whole new dimension of pleasure waiting for him as Cas slides a finger, wet with lube, between Dean’s ass cheeks and circles his rim. He makes an embarrassing amount of noise at those first touches. It’s possible that there is begging embedded somewhere in the guttural sounds he lets loose.

Cas lets Dean’s cock slide from his mouth as his finger presses wet and insistent into Dean’s hole, just up to the first knuckle, just enough to tease at what’s to come. “Ah, there we go,” Cas murmurs, his voice raw and harsh with lust. “That’s what you’re after. You want me inside you.”

“Fuck,” Dean whines in clear confirmation of Cas’ suspicions. Cas plunges his finger in deeper, pushing and twisting.  Dean relaxes around him slowly, becoming used to the sensation, and it’s only a matter of time before he’s squirming with pleasure.

“I’m going to take my time with you,” Cas explains in that sinfully gruff tone of his. “Work you open nice and slow, fuck you with my fingers until you’re all spread out and desperate for it.” He’s so matter-of-fact about it, like he knows exactly what it’ll take to get Dean to that desperate place he wants. Dean supposes he probably does know exactly what’ll push Dean that far. He’s always been able to read Dean so well, and it’s not like he’s playing hard to get here. Cas pulls his finger out, adds more lube, and returns with two, the renewed stretch making Dean writhe and moan.

“More,” Dean breathes. “Fuck, don’t stop.” He feels hot all over, blushing and sweating with the need that’s growing with every passing moment. The filthy words coming from his angel are having exactly the desired effect, making him hot, driving him wild. Cas chuckles, a low, dark sound.

“I have no intention of stopping, Dean,” Cas assures him. “Not until you’re ready to take my cock. Maybe not even then. You look so beautiful like this.” He twists and scissors his fingers, and Dean writhes on the bed.

Cas wasn’t kidding about taking his time, Dean finds. He works at Dean with two fingers until they slide in and out easily, no resistance, and just keeps going. Sometimes his fingers probe searchingly, grazing against that sweet spot deep inside. Dean arches up off the bed when he does that, crying out, and Cas just murmurs about how fucking gorgeous he is when he does that. He’s relentless. Not unaffected, but unrelenting. And just when Dean is starting to think this is all he’ll get, just two fingers and filthy words until he finally loses control and comes, Cas pushes a third finger in, the burn of it making Dean cry out anew, and they start all over.

“I like you like this,” Cas informs him, a little hint of mirth slipping into his tone.

“Oh do you now?” Dean manages between whimpers. He’s got fistfuls of the sheets balled up in each hand, his muscles aching, his cock nearly purple it’s so hard.

“Hm, yes. All wet and open for me, making those filthy noises. I can’t take my eyes off of you.”

Dean groans. “I bet I’d look even better with your dick in my ass,” he ventures impatiently. “We should test that theory.” Cas stops moving his hand, three fingers buried deep in Dean’s ass, and lets out a laugh that is so bright and free and happy, Dean wishes he knew exactly what was so funny about that so he could be sure to do it again.

“That sounds like a good plan,” Cas agrees, slicking his cock up with even more lube. He pulls his fingers free and teases the blunt head of his cock against Dean’s hole, pausing only long enough that Dean starts to squirm under him, and then pushes in, bottoming out all in one long stroke. Dean’s long past the point of prepped so it’s an easy slide, no burn, no resistance, but it is already so much better than the feeling of Cas’ fingers and he hasn’t even done anything yet. “Dean, you feel good!” Cas praises, hooking his arms under Dean’s knees. It lifts his hips up off the bed just a little, changing the angle and taking away basically any leverage he might have had at his disposal, and starts to move.

His first thrusts aren’t particularly hard or fast, but Dean is already so turned on that it feels fucking amazing. The slick slide of Cas’ thick cock into his hole has him crying out Cas’ name, his breath coming in short, harsh gasps. He won’t last long like this.

“You take my cock so well.” It’s the filthiest praise Dean has ever received, and he fucking loves it. “Like you were made for it. I bet you could come just like this, just from me fucking you.” He quickens his pace then, driving his hips forward and pounding into Dean with short, hard thrusts. And Dean just lies there and takes it, lets Cas use him exactly the way he wants to, because everything he’s doing and saying is just so perfect, if there was anything that could make it better he wouldn’t even know what to ask for.

“Come on, Dean,” Cas is saying breathlessly. “Come for me. Let me see you let go. I wanna make you feel _so_ good.” It’s not even a matter of consciously deciding to do so. Dean has never been able to come on command, can’t even imagine how he’d go about doing it. But as soon as he hears those words it sets off something in his brain that makes his body respond, and he’s shooting off untouched, his cock spurting thick ropes of white across his soft belly, making him clench around Cas’ cock.

Cas fucks him through it, murmuring soothing and dirty things as Dean cries out, moans and gasps and shudders. He’s fucked out and boneless, sagging in Cas’ hold. Cas lets go of one of his thighs, swiping his fingers through the mess of come on Dean’s stomach and wrapping his strong fingers around Dean’s cock, milking the last drops of release from it as he spills his own come into Dean’s ass. He’s much quieter in his orgasm but the look on his face says it all, and Dean can’t tear his eyes away. He whines when the touch of Cas’ hand on his softening cock becomes too much to bear, but revels in Cas’ continued thrusts. He’s slowed now, gentler, rolling his hips against Dean’s body, but it still sends jolts of pleasure through Dean’s body. When he eventually pulls away, Dean can feel the slickness of Cas’ come leaking out of him, such a strange but not entirely unpleasant feeling, and he makes a contented noise when Cas sags to the bed beside him, drawing him close. Cas’ fingers smear absently at the mess left on Dean’s abdomen and his lips find Dean’s mouth, kissing lazily in the quiet that follows.

Dean’s heartbeat returns gradually to normal, his breathing slows. The blush fades from his skin, the aftershocks of pleasure that run along his skin dissipate, and Cas’ warmth next to him is comfortable and soothing.

“I think,” Cas murmurs in the dark, not moving anything but his mouth. “I am beginning to understand the appeal of talking dirty,” he announces.

“That was fun for you?” Dean inquires earnestly, pretty sure he already knows the answer.

“Very much so,” Cas agrees. “Next time you attempt to educate me on something of a sexual nature, I’ll try not to require so much explanation for the theory behind it.”


End file.
